


An Act of Desperation

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2018: Hurt/Comfort edition [9]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: An encounter with renegade feds seeking Soviet launch codes harshly reminds Illya of a time when THRUSH had been after the same.





	An Act of Desperation

It had been a long time since Illya knowing part of the Soviet launch codes had ever been an issue—in fact, it had been so long, that the both of them had considered the matter closed. After all, the codes would have been changed by now; there was no point in coming after Illya—or so they had thought.

Evidently, certain scheming, underhanded folks in places of power thought that, with Illya’s piece of old code, they could infer the new code. And so, without orders or warrant or anything that would have given them legal right to do so, a handful of renegade agents sought the Russian out.

He managed to activate his distress signal as he fled and proceeded to send a frantic message to Napoleon. But as his pursuers closed in, memories of the interrogations he’d experienced with THRUSH over this same issue—being chained to a saltire and brutally beaten for the information that he could not dare to give.

He could not go through that again.

He pulled one of the tranquilizer darts from his Special and hesitated for a moment, but then he braced himself and stuck the needle into his neck.

He dropped like a stone in seconds, his pursuers crowding around him, wondering just how to deal with this.

“We were supposed to interrogate him in the car and dump him by the side of the road!” one chided.

“We’ll have to take him somewhere until he wakes up,” another muttered, moving to pick him up.

He never reached Illya, for Napoleon had come in from the left, his full weight behind the left hook that he slammed into the man’s chin, knocking him out cold.

In his right hand, he held his Special, aimed at the others.

“So, which one of you wants to test whether my Special has sleeping darts or bullets?” he challenged.

The men, momentarily frozen in fear, suddenly turned tail and bolted. Napoleon silently planted a sleeping dart in the back of each one as the fled, dropping one by one.

“I wanted to use bullets… Lucky for you, I didn’t,” he hissed at them.

As Mark and April and others arrived to take the pursuers into custody, Napoleon set about to tending to his partner, trying to help him revive faster.

Illya blinked as he finally came out of the tranquilizer.

“Napoleon…?” he murmured. “Are they…?”

“They are in custody,” Napoleon assured him. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more than that.”

Illya managed a wan smile; he found it oddly fascinating, how someone who was normally so kind and merciful could be pushed to such extreme anger. Illya was Napoleon’s weakness, but it was a weakness that only the very foolish would dare to try to take advantage of. These men had been lucky—others, who had dared to inflict harm upon Illya had not been so lucky.

“You did enough,” Illya assured him.

“Not enough,” Napoleon said. “Enough would have given you the confidence not to tranquilize yourself.”

“Napoleon, it wasn’t that I didn’t have confidence in you,” he assured him. “…I lacked the confidence in myself. After being interrogated so brutally by THRUSH over this very thing, I could not…” He trailed off, and Napoleon gripped his arm. “Forgive me, Napoleon, but my emotions—my fears—got the better of me today. Had I been in a better state of mind, I would have been more defiant and not so quick to try to escape potential questioning.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Napoleon said. “You had a terrible experience that still has some scars on you—visible and invisible. Old wounds were reopened tonight—but, perhaps, I can help you heal.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Illya replied.

He had never lost his faith in his partner; if anything, it was stronger than ever before.


End file.
